


Do I Wanna Know

by benedictedcumberbatched



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Sentimental, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbatched/pseuds/benedictedcumberbatched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during The Empty Hearse. Sherlock discovers how much Molly truly means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Wanna Know

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock does not belong to me, he, Watson and everyone else belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course, the man himself, Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Do I wanna know)  
> If this feeling flows both ways?  
> (Sad to see you go)  
> Was sort of hoping that you'd stay  
> (Baby we both know)  
> That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day
> 
> Crawling back to you  
> -“Do I Wanna Know” by The Arctic Monkeys

If Sherlock had the capability to go back two years ago and watch the man he was now, he would have dismissed himself as being yet another sentimental human being on this place they called Earth. Even he couldn’t have foreseen how things would turn out when he came back from the dead. Sherlock fully intended to get chips with Molly. Nimble fingers wound his scarf around his neck as he waited for her to join him. “Sherlock…” he made a slight humming noise to let her know he was listening. “What was today about?”

He looked back up the stairs; his eyes fixed on Molly Hooper, “Saying thank you,” he replied, eyes never leaving her. She looked tired, was that all his doing?

“For what?” she took another step toward him. Under normal circumstances he would have criticized her for asking stupid questions, made some unkind remark about the size of her lips or how she had styled her hair that day, but there was nothing. This was important.

“For everything you did for me,” he said instead. He found he couldn’t find anything to say to her, to treat her as he did two years ago. He couldn’t find anything to say about the multi-colored knit jumper she wore, obviously something sentimental, hand made, probably a gift of some sort, something she wore when she thought she was being John for the day.

“It’s okay. It was my pleasure,” she said exhausted, brushing past him at the foot of the stairs. Sherlock’s heart, yes he did have one despite what he had said all those years ago, clenched a bit at her tone. He should have realized he couldn’t have dragged her about like that, like he did with John.

He continued to watch her, “No, I mean it.”

“I didn’t mean pleasure…I mean I didn’t mind, I wanted to.” There was his stammering Pathologist. He had wondered where she had gone to behind the exterior she was exhibiting. Sherlock turned to face her, and really got a good look at her. She had changed in the two years since she helped him fake his death. So had he. He knew what he needed to say and he needed to say it soon, before she walked away again.

“Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake,” he said quickly, taking a small step toward her. “Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me, was the one person that mattered the most.” The words weighed heavy on his mind, how could he have been so blind so stupid to not see what was staring him in the face right that very minute? He remembered a similar conversation, tucked away neatly into the growing Molly Hooper room of his mind palace, the day he told her she counted, the day he jumped off the roof of St. Bart’s. “You made it all possible,” he added, his eyes gazing upon her. She looked surprised but it quickly faded.

He had noticed her ring earlier, simple, elegant, a tad antique looking but it appeared to suit Molly. The way she fidgeted with it though, still too big for her finger she had yet to get it resized, the way she looked at it with a sort of resignation, he knew before she even started explaining about her fiancé that she wasn’t entirely happy. But he still didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he let her explain, “He’s not from work. We met through friends, old fashioned way…” he smiled, but he knew it was just a façade. How could you lose something that was never yours in the first place?

Sherlock let her ramble. Any other time before he would have stopped her before she had even started but now things were different. “I hope you’ll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it,” he uttered almost monotone. It pained him to see her so surprised, although it was subtle. Taking a deep breath, “After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths.”

It was there, quietly, a tiny “No?” Was she challenging him in her own way? She was so small, so very _Molly._

“No,” he solidified. Was it for her benefit or for his? Sherlock had never allowed himself to feel anything like this before nor could he exactly pinpoint when all that had changed. Had it changed though? Looking down at her, she had that expression of apprehension, curiosity as to what his next move would be. Her pupils had dilated slightly, as much as she swore to herself that she had moved on, gotten over him, he knew the body could never lie. He gave her a small, sad smile as he stepped toward her, watching her face for any indication that she didn’t want it.

Leaning forward, he was brought back to that dreaded Christmas party. He never apologized, he never thanked anyone, but Molly had set him straight. Molly had told him off. He had felt the cold hands of regret and guilt pull at him, pulling him away from the unfeeling bastard that he had been and toward the warmth that was Molly Hooper. He had only intended to brush a kiss to her cheek, but found himself pressing a quick but deliberate kiss to her cheek.

Sherlock, ever observant, did not miss the way her body changed during the kiss. He didn’t miss how she appeared to hold her breath. He didn’t miss the way her eyes closed and how when he pulled away, she appeared to sway slightly with a small smile on her lips. But Sherlock Holmes walked away before he did something he would regret. She was engaged for Christ sake. Even he, who never succumbed to his emotions and had told John on their first meeting he didn’t do relationships, knew you didn’t go around kissing another man’s fiancé.

Sherlock pulled his coat closer around him and fixed his scarf as he stepped away from the train man’s house, his head down. What had he been thinking in that today could have been different? Did he honestly think this was a date? What good was he if he couldn’t deduce his own heart? He knew Molly wasn’t happy otherwise she wouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her, even if it were on the cheek. That knowledge though, gave him hope where he rightly had none.


End file.
